


Hysterical Sherlock

by shenanygans



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F, Femlock, Femslash, Hysterical Literature, Kink, Light BDSM, PWP, Poetry, Slash, Smut, Submissive!Sherlock, Voice Kink, dom!Joan, emily dickinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 00:01:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shenanygans/pseuds/shenanygans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joan Watson comes across the Hysterical Literature videos on YouTube and gets an idea of her own...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hysterical Sherlock

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by this video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQuT-Xfyk3o&oref=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DPQuT-Xfyk3o&has_verified=1
> 
> The videos are beautiful pieces and I just couldn't help but have Joan and Sherlock use it to spice up their sex lives (not that it needs much spice!)
> 
> This is in honor of Femslash February and Femlock in general! It's a great AU! Enjoy!

Joan knows that it’s supposed to be art. The black and white video with plainly dressed women reading at a table is quite simple and beautiful. You’re not supposed to see the women being pleasured beneath the table by an invisible vibrator. Maybe it’s just them, maybe there’s a person down there who knows where to touch them. You’re only to see the slight hitch of their voice and minute twitch in their expression as they tried to keep control before being taken over the edge. Still, this is definitely not pornography like the stuff that Joan’s army mates had shown her one late night after a few drinks. It’s just a normal woman getting off from reading. 

She knows it’s supposed to be art but it’s the most erotic things she’s ever seen on the screen of her laptop and she is so close to dropping her knickers right then and there. Which is probably not good since she’s at work—why did Sarah send her this video now? 

With a heavy sigh, Joan closes the window and works on the paperwork from her last patient. All she can do is press her legs together and hope that will sate her until she can get back home to Sherlock. 

Oh, Sherlock…Now that woman had such a lovely voice. Joan could just imagine her reading poetry aloud as she controlled the amount of pleasure Sherlock received. To see her skin flush while reading Shakespeare or T.S. Elliot, or Poe; that low velvety voice losing control; her long pale hands shaking as she turned the page. Joan had to take a deep breath and re-crossed her legs even harder. 

“Fuck,” she breathed. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to see a patient within the next ten minutes. 

 

Joan was lucky enough to survive the rest of her shift. She hurried off towards the tube and took the train three stops from Baker Street. They were going to need a few things…

 

It was an hour later when Sherlock heard Joan down on the landing. As the other woman went up the stairs, Sherlock noted a slight spring in her step. Usually work only left Joan drained and tired. Sometimes even the limp would come back for a time. It was only either after a successful case or when she wanted to have sex that Joan would fly up the staircase in such a manner. As their last successful case was almost a week ago, it had to be for sex. 

For the last month, Sherlock’s detective business had been soaring. As soon as one case ended, another one began shortly after. There had been times in between where Joan had practically forced Sherlock to eat and rest. And while these cases had been quite stimulating for Sherlock’s mind, it meant absolutely no stimulation in the bedroom. She was looking forward to tonight.

Sherlock sat up and placed her laptop back onto the coffee table in case Joan’s first action was to pounce at the sight of her. The door to the sitting room opened and Joan stepped through. In her left hand was a small bag. 

Joan didn’t look at her as she took off her coat and hung it up. After kicking off her shoes, she finally turned to her lover. 

“Bedroom. Now.” Her tone was a gentle, but firm command. “I want you naked by the time I get there.” 

Sherlock immediately stood up to do as she had been told. Joan rarely used that tone with her. It had quite the effect on her. 

As she paused in the doorway to see where Joan was going, she noticed her lover heading towards the bookshelf. That was odd. They didn’t hide any toys there. Sherlock then went inside to strip and wait at for her at the edge of the bed. 

When Joan entered she had a new vibrator in one hand and a book in the other. She set them on the desk before taking the chair and turned it towards the closet door mirror. Then, Joan slowly began to remove her clothing until she was only in her pants. They were technically men’s pants—red with a white y-front, but they were incredibly comfortable. 

She sat herself down on the chair and motioned Sherlock over. “Sit on my lap.”

Sherlock looked over at the vibrator and book. This was going to be interesting. She sat sidesaddle on Joan’s lap and wrapped her arms around the woman’s neck to bring her in for a kiss. 

At first, they were soft, feather light kisses. Joan pulled Sherlock closer to her and caressed the soft pale skin of her back. She nipped at her lover’s lower lip before deepening the kiss, swirling her tongue around Sherlock’s. 

When she pulled away, she asked, “Do you know what I’m going to have you do yet?”

Sherlock hummed. “You’re going to have me read Emily Dickinson while you stimulate me. I can’t stop speaking until I’ve come and it’s you who’ll be in control of whether or not I do that.”

Joan chuckled and nipped at her collarbone. “Showoff.” Then she handed Sherlock the book of poetry. 

“You know you get off on my voice. That’s why you’re doing this.” Already a page was marked for her to read from. 

Joan then took a hold of the lavender colored vibrator. She had specifically picked it out for this. It was small, the round base fitting nicely into the palm of her hand with her index and middle finger to lay up towards the tip for extra control. 

She maneuvered Sherlock so that she was sitting towards the mirror so she could see both of them. Then Joan spread Sherlock’s legs wide, exposing her sex into full view. She placed the tip of the vibrator right above her clit. “Now read,” she said in a low voice. 

“Why,” Sherlock started, her voice rich and velvety, 

“The murmur of a bee  
A witchcraft yieldeth me.  
If any ask me why,  
‘T were easier to die  
Than tell.

The red upon the hill  
Taketh away my will;  
If anybody sneer,  
Take care, for God is here,  
That’s all.  
The breaking of the day  
Addeth to my degree;  
If any ask me how,  
Artist, who drew me so,  
Must tell!”

 

As she spoke, Joan turned the vibrator on low and pressed it gently against Sherlock’s clitoris.

Sherlock’s breath hitched just so but it did not take away from the steady rhythm of her voice. She spoke calmly and slowly, letting each verse linger upon the air before continuing on. For now, she was in control of her faculties. 

Joan planned on changing that very soon. She dipped the tip of the vibrator down to Sherlock’s entrance. The woman was already wet—a sign that she was enjoying this too. Joan grinned and pressed in just past the opening, letting the tip get covered in the juices. “Keep going,” she whispered in her ear.

Sherlock swallowed thickly and turned the page to the next poem. 

 

“There is a flower that bees prefer,  
And butterflies desire;  
To gain the purple democrat  
The humming-birds aspire

And whatsoever insect pass,  
A honey bears away  
Proportioned to his several dearth  
And her capacity. “

 

Sherlock’s breath was caught in her throat as the vibrator was moved back to her clitoris. The added wetness of her cum intensified the sensations. She shifted in Joan’s lap, feeling the woman curl an arm around her. A small squeeze encouraged her to continue…

 

“Her face is rounder than the moon,  
And ruddier than the gown  
Or orchis in the pasture,  
Or rhododendron worn.”

 

Joan kissed down Sherlock’s neck and shoulder. She smelled of soap with a hint of formaldehyde from years of experimentation. It suited her. She reached up to pinch Sherlock’s nipples, getting another delicious sound out of her.

 

“She doth not wait for June;  
Before the world is green  
Her sturdy little countenance  
Against the wind is seen,

Contending with the grass,  
Near kinsman to herself,  
For privilege of sod and sun,  
Sweet litigants for life.

And when the hills are full,  
And newer fashions blow,  
Doth not retract a single spice  
For pang of jealousy.”

 

Sherlock’s voice grew higher in pitch and she had to pause now to catch her breath. In the mirror, she could see it rise and fall in short flutters. Joan’s eyes were dark from arousal and smirked when their eyes met in the reflection.

Joan raised the setting on the vibrator.

 

“Her public is the noon,  
Her providence the sun,  
Her progress by the bee proclaimed—Ah!  
In sovereign, swerveless tune.

The bravest of the host,  
Surrendering at last,  
Nor even of defeat aware—Oh…  
When canceled by the frost.”

 

Sherlock bit her lip and fought to keep control. Joan held her tight as she squirmed in her lap. 

“One more poem, love,” she breathed, “and I promise I’ll make you come.” There was a dark flush over her cheeks. Just watching Sherlock like this had made this so intense. Sherlock wasn’t the only one fighting for control. She sucked at the pale skin, leaving a mark and turned the vibrator up to full power. 

Sherlock gasped and looked down at the page, her eyes scanning the entire poem. Then she looked up into the mirror. The entire time, her eyes were on Joan. “Mine,” she moaned,

 

“Mine by the right of the white election!  
Mine by the royal seal!  
Mine by the sign in the scarlet prison—Ah!  
Bars cannot conceal!

Mine, here in vision and in veto!  
Mine, by the grave’s repeal—Fuck!  
Title, confirmed, — delirious charter!  
Mine, while the ages steal!

Mine! Joan! Mine!”

 

She cried out as she came, her body undulating violently against Joan’s. 

Joan held her tight and moved against her as well. She dropped the vibrator and used her own fingers to take her over the edge as well. Her climax washed over her, the pleasure coursing through her body until she was reduced into a panting, sweaty mess that clung on tightly to her lover. 

When Sherlock’s own release passed, she leaned back against Joan with her head resting on her shoulder. The book was unceremoniously dropped to the floor.  
“Whoever gave you this idea,” Sherlock breathed, licking her lips, “thank them for me.”

Joan huffed out a short laugh. “Sarah sent me a video. I can show it to you in a bit. Just let me catch my breath…” 

Sherlock turned around to straddle Joan and kiss her with slow, languid kisses. “Just wait until it’s your turn,” she murmured, “I already have several authors that I think you shall enjoy.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” she sighed. 

After all, they had a whole library to go through.


End file.
